


I’d walk through fire for you

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Community: Kylux Cantina, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fire, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, poor Mitaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: A fic woven from six Kylux Cantina prompts on the theme of “Danger”.Set in some kind of fantasy AU with dragons and magic swords.Prompts used:1. Here be dragons—Captain Armitage and Prince Kylo are preparing for a sparring match when the castle is attacked by dragons. Despite his protestations, Kylo is removed to safety by Phasma so that the soldiers can get on with defending the castle.2. It’s dangerous to go solo, take this with you—Between them, Phasma, Unamo, Armitage and Kylo hatch a plan to kill the dragon. There is no way Armitage is going to let Prince Kylo go on such a dangerous mission, and Phasma hints that she knows why.3. Bait—Kylo follows. Of course he does, the idiot’s in love. Armitage has to relent and accept company but Kylo soon realises he has made a mistake. This dragon knows him.4. Alarm Bells—Kylo and Armitage fight the dragon.5. Medical Scare—They are on their way home. Armitage is injured. Kylo seems fine, but not all injuries are physical.6. In the nick of time—Armitage and Phasma learn the hard way that if you’re clearing a nest of dragons you have to killallof them. Kylo is still out of action and someone from his past shows up.





	1. Here be dragons

The attack comes with little warning.

A shriek then a terrified shout of _Dragons!_ from one of the lookouts perched in a turret high above the outer wall startles Prince Kylo and the captain of his guard, Armitage, and they pause their sparring in the sandy arena below. Duty and discipline overriding fear, Armitage’s soldiers burst into motion, jumping to their feet from where they’d been sitting ready to be entertained with a show of swordsmanship: their prince, not quite twenty, against a trained soldier four years his senior who’d promised no holding back. They’re running to the castle’s defences, weapons and shields hoisted already. Armitage hustles Kylo bodily to the gate that leads into the heavily fortified and thick-walled inner courtyard.

“Kylo, your highness, get under cover. Your safety is paramount. I will remain to direct my troops.” Armitage turns at the sight of a glint of silver armour. “Phasma! Go with the Prince.”  
Phasma, an imposing figure even without her gleaming body armour, nods once and marches towards Prince Kylo.  
“With me, your highness.”  
“But I’m the best swordsman in this shit hole of a castle!” protests Kylo. “I should stay and defend—“  
“All in good time,” Armitage snaps, cutting off the prince’s complaints. “Do not rush to meet your death in the burning maw of a dragon. Get to safety.”

As if to emphasise Armitage’s point, the turret guard’s helmet crashes to the sand and rolls closer. Kylo watches it and takes a step back when he sees that the lookout’s head is still inside. Phasma shoves him through the gate and over to the inner keep where he should be safe from rending talons, piercing teeth and searing jets of fire. Hux looks up and draws his sword, trembling, unready for an attack that doesn’t come yet because the dragon is a smaller one and has its talons full already. Knowing that the prince is safe, he runs and yells commands to his troops. His lieutenant runs to his side and together they direct the formations of troopers. 

Prince Kylo waits. He wants to see, to fight, to live up to the name of _Protector of the Realm_  that he will inherit in a few weeks. He wants desperately to be worthy of honour and rails against his enforced cowardice. He puts as much power into his voice as he can. “Phasma, I am your prince. I command you to—“  
“No.” Phasma doesn’t even look at him.  
“You may not refuse me! I am of age and—“  
Phasma glares. “ _Armitage_ commands me. I serve the Hux family. You are not yet of age.”  
“What is a matter of weeks when the castle is under attack!” Kylo stands and paces. “I’m better with my weapon than he is with his. You know that. I’m—“  
“You’re good with your sword, but he’s better at conducting a disciplined defence. You’d get in his way if you went out to be a hero.” Phasma sighs, she’s heard the argument before and has limited patience for it. “You’d get yourself killed and maybe take a few good soldiers with you. I’m going to take a look. Stay here.”  
Phasma leaves. It’s too much for Kylo to bear. As the battle rages on above and beyond the inner sanctuary, he draws his weapon and swings at anything within reach.

When Armitage comes to get him, Kylo is shocked by the blood on his face and the burns in his uniform. Armitage frowns and then laughs. “Oh it’s not my blood,” he says as if that makes it all better. “We’ve driven them off. Your highness...” Armitage’s foice falters and he looks troubled. He sits on the floor. “Kylo, there were so many of them this time! Juveniles, by their colouring. None of them more than twelve feet snout to barbed tail and we killed more than half, but at such a cost!”

His head droops. Kylo stands, a little embarrassed that he does not know what to do, so he does nothing. After a minute of silent contemplation, Armitage’s head comes back up and he regards Kylo with those pale green eyes. Kylo holds his gaze. “How many?” asks Kylo.  
“Dragons?” says Armitage. “About two dozen, although the way they flock makes it difficult to count accurately. We brought down fifteen. Phasma and my troopers are dealing with the clean up as we speak, before they return for another bite.”  
“No,” says Kylo, voice quiet. “How many did we lose.”  
“Ah,” Armitage replies softly. “Too many. I will have to replace seasoned fighters with Phasma’s best cadets.” Armitage silently counts names off on his fingers. Peavey. Canady. Rodinon. And... “We lost four officers and I’ll have troop losses for you as soon as the cleanup is over.” His hands come up to cover his face and his shoulders shake. “I saw Mitaka carried away. There was nothing I could do to stop it. His cries... I hope his suffering was short.”  
Kylo makes an attempt at comfort: a hand on Armitage’s shoulder and a murmur that he had done all he could. Armitage’s head whips up and he pushes himself, groaning in pain, to stand.  
“It’s not enough! How can I protect you when I can’t even protect my own lieutenant? He was standing at my back, shield and weapon ready, looking up. As was I. It came out of nowhere, Kylo!”

Kylo drops his hand and stands silent again for a few seconds. “Train me,” he says, “then let me fight. If I can lay waste to a training field, I can lay waste to a flock of dragons.”  
“No.” Armitage takes Kylo’s hands and shakes his head. “You were not sent here to die a foolish hero. I will send word to the queen and—“  
“You will do no such thing!” Kylo glowers at Armitage. “I come of age in under two months. After that I can go out and kill dragons if I choose, and I will. Armitage,” Kylo moves closer, his face only inches from Armitage’s. “Get me ready. I want to rid our land of this pest.”  
“Then turn to your learning, your books,” replies Armitage in the hope that reading is a less risky endeavour than fighting dragons. “Find out how we may strike at the very core of their existence. Find a way to prevent attacks. Find a way to—“

Armitage stops, shocked by the simplicity of his thought. “They were _all juveniles._ We need to find their lair,” he says to Kylo with a decisive nod. “We need to find the adult they’re feeding. We need to find the one that’s breeding and kill it.”


	2. Solo

It takes Armitage two weeks to fill the gaps in the ranks from Phasma’s cadets then fill the gaps in the cadet corps from local villages. There are always orphans and children who, though neither unwanted nor unloved, make each family member’s share of supper a little more meagre than they need. The children usually go with him and Phasma willingly after hearing Armitage’s tales of brave adventure, or at least with some measure of hope that the food will be more abundant than they are used to and the uniforms less threadbare than the clothes they leave behind for smaller siblings to grow into.

It’s yet another two weeks before one of Armitage’s experienced trackers returns with good news: after a long and careful search she has found the dragons’ lair.

Meanwhile, Prince Kylo has attacked his training with such determination and focus that it surprises both Armitage and Phasma. He arrives early and warms up before his scheduled lessons and sparring sessions, and he spends evenings by candlelight studying books from Armitage’s small collection of prized volumes on the art of combat. Armitage and Kylo often spend the hour between supper and bed discussing strategy, and in the mornings Kylo works on developing new sword forms while Armitage watches. Kylo’s diligence prompts Phasma to suggest to Armitage that Prince Kylo might be permitted to join the troops for the next dragon defence drill.

Armitage frowns at Phasma. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says. “It will give the boy false hope. What if the next time we are under attack he refuses to get to safety because he thinks he knows what he’s doing and gets himself injured or killed?”  
“Armitage, he’s going to be twenty in two weeks’ time.” Phasma shrugs. “Chances are the next attack will be after that and he’ll have the right to disobey you and fight. You can’t have him kept away from danger forever, whatever your feelings tell you.”  
Armitage’s frown deepens. “What do you mean by that, Phasma?”  
“Only that I know you want to protect him, but that he’s not a boy any more. He’s no longer the gangly sixteen year old calf handed over to you for combat training by the Queen and her brother because they couldn’t channel his temper, and he’ll resent you for holding him back.” Phasma smiles knowingly. “You hold him dear, Armitage, and he basks in your attention.”  
That makes Armitage’s face turn pink and he looks away. “Rubbish,” he says. “Keep your gossip and insinuation to yourself.”  
Phasma laughs. “I made no insinuation and yet your own thoughts filled in what I did not say! You’d do anything to keep your handsome prince safe.”  
Armitage shakes his head and puts on a stern expression. It’s time for a change of subject. “Phasma, I need you to help me go over the information Tracker Unamo brought back. With careful planning and a perfectly executed mission, there will be no more attacks to endanger the life of my prince.”

Unamo’s information is good. She presents her observations of the lair, watched over the course of a full day and night from a den abandoned by some other animal, nearby scuffed scorch marks that suggest it was the victim of a young dragon on its first hunt. She describes the fertile dragon as wingless, over twenty feet long with mottled gold scales, long brown teeth and piercing blue eyes sunken into a misshapen head as if it had almost been cleft in two by the axe of another would-be dragon-killer. Prince Kylo, invited to the table to advise on the mission out of politeness (and Armitage’s desire to have him kept under guard and out of trouble), scoffs. “Everyone knows you don’t waste your weapon on a dragon’s skull. Not if it’s an ordinary blade, anyway.”  
“Oh?” Armitage and Phasma glance at one another then look at Kylo. “Please tell us what attack formation you recommend,” says Armitage. Phasma hears the sarcasm in his tone and smiles but Kylo ignores it.  
“One,” says Kylo, placing a fingertip onto the rough table surface, “I’d go alone. Unamo got through without alerting it to her presence. Two,” a second finger joins the first, making an inverted vee above the wood, “I’d want a weapon that pierces dragon scales, or knowledge of where to strike it to have greatest effect. Like, obviously not its thick skull.”  
Unamo clears her throat. “Phasma? His highness has a point.” Phasma raises her eyebrows, Armitage fixes Unamo with a glare and Prince Kylo smirks. “There were... remains. So many... bits. I thought I recognised... some but I looked away.” Unamo responds to Phasma’s hand on her arm by taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a few seconds before continuing. “If you go in heavy they’ll know you’re coming and attack before you get close. I circled the lair and found evidence of failed attacks. But I got close enough to see it and I lived.”

Later, after a training session that drove Kylo hard and made his arms ache from hoisting his heavy shield up as if warding off spewing fire from above, the prince asks to speak with Armitage alone. Armitage sits opposite him at the rough table in the guard room as watchmen patrol the outer walls and call out an all’s-well each time they pass. Kylo waits for Armitage to react.  
“No. Absolutely not.” Armitage lays both hands flat on the table between them and leans forward. “There is no way I am allowing you to ride out on some heroic quest to get roasted and eaten.”  
“But it would work,” counters Kylo, leaning forward too, just as vehement in his insistence that the task be his as Armitage is that it should not. “I know how to do this, Armitage. I’ll ride out on Supremacy then walk when I get close. You can send a company of troopers to lure the juveniles out then when they’ve passed over me I’ll creep into the lair and shove my sword up—“  
“No!” Armitage stands, hands in his hair, glaring at Kylo. “I can’t let you walk right into your own destruction.”  
“Then WHO!” Kylo stands and yells in frustration, gesticulating wildly. “It should be ME! It’s MY right! It’s MY destiny! I’M the one who wields the Skywalker sword!”  
Armitage takes a deep breath and yells back. “BOLLOCKS TO DESTINY! I WON’T HAVE YOU DIE LIKE THAT!”

Kylo draws himself up to his full height, less than an inch taller than Armitage, and Armitage is struck by what a large, imposing man he is. The combat training and army rations that have bestowed upon Armitage a lithe, wiry frame have given Kylo broad shoulders and meaty arms, muscled thighs and a solid stance that looks unshakeable. Armitage realises the truth of Phasma’s earlier words. Prince Kylo is not the angry stripling he was four years ago. The realisation blows the fury from Armitage like blossom in the breeze and he cups Kylo’s face with his hands.  
“Please, Kylo, your highness, I couldn’t bear to put you in danger.”  
Kylo pulls Armitage’s hands from his face but holds them between both of his. Armitage is surprised that his hands are engulfed and the young man’s once-slender, once-smooth hands are strong and as rough as his own. Everything about Kylo suddenly seems larger than life.  
“In thirteen days I will be twenty, then I can do this with your help or without.” Kylo brings one of Armitage’s hands to his lips and kisses the thick, callused pad beneath his thumb. “You can’t stop me.”

Three days later, as soon as there is enough grey in the sky to see his way, Armitage mounts his mare, Finalizer, and salutes Phasma.  
“All set? Clear on the plan?”  
“Of course. Give you a half day’s head start to get into position on the east side then follow Unamo’s route with twenty troopers, single file, spaced out and silent when we get close. Lure out the juveniles to the south at noon day after tomorrow. Pick up what’s left of you after the flames die down and bring it back for burial.” Phasma waits for Armitage to grimace and nod. “You’re an idiot,” she says. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to call this off?”  
Armitage shakes his head. Finalizer stamps and frets when there is a noise behind them. It’s the gate banging and Kylo runs barefoot across the parade ground, kicking up sand, sword belted at his side.  
“I knew you were planning something,” he says when he catches up and grips Armitage’s knee. “You’re taking my place, aren’t you?”  
Armitage scowls. “Your highness, I am not stealing your glory if that’s what you think. I’m pre-empting your suicide mission with my own.”  
“Let me come with you. I can have Supremacy saddled and ready in twenty minutes.”  
“No. Two people means twice the risk of being detected. I have to go alone.”  
With an uncharacteristic lack of argument, Kylo takes a step back and nods. He unbuckles his belt and holds his sword up, hilt towards Armitage. “It’s dangerous to go solo,” he says. “Take this with you. It’s my sword, the one Uncle Luke gave me to use when...” Kylo looks into Armitage’s face and sees surprise. He smiles and takes the sword back for a moment, pulling it from its scabbard. In the air, the blade bursts into pale cyan flame. Armitage and Phasma both stare at it until Kylo sheaths it again.

Blinking at the red afterimage, Armitage watches Kylo fasten his sword behind Finalizer’s saddle. He looks around to check that only Phasma can see, leans down and kisses Kylo’s lips.  
“Thank you, your highness,” says Armitage for only Kylo to hear. “I promise to return the Skywalker sword to you before your formal birthday presentation.”  
“You better,” replies Kylo. “But kiss me again before you go in case you break your promise.”


	3. Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about horses other than they like eating and are spooked by everything unfamiliar.

Armitage rides out without looking back in case the sight of Prince Kylo makes him turn back, say, “I changed my mind, get your horse,” and lead them both into mortal peril or, worse, in the opposite direction. He reflects on Kylo’s parting words with a smile.

_It’s dangerous to go Solo._

Armitage is one of the few allowed to know that the prince is only half royal, the offspring of the queen and a dashing commoner, a scoundrel by all accounts, who still shows his face from time to time. Solo is his name. Those who know are trusted: if the queen’s rivals hear of it they might question the boy’s right to wield his grandfather’s sword, held in safekeeping for him by his religious uncle for most of his life and sent to him only weeks ago so that he could prepare for a formal presentation on his twentieth birthday. Phasma knows too. She has a way of finding out useful things, calls it part of her survival instinct. As a result, Armitage tells her everything, reasoning that he may as well. _To go Solo_ has been their code phrase for embarking on a doomed endeavour or indulging in self-sabotaging behaviour for the past four years. It makes Armitage feel warm to think that Kylo knows and doesn’t mind.

Riding out alone on Finalizer, knowing that his prince safe in the castle, he can think clearly about Kylo. He can think about daring to kiss Kylo goodbye and wonder about what it means that Kylo insisted on a second kiss, one that made him want to slip from his saddle and pull Kylo’s body close, right in front of Phasma. He tells Finalizer that it’s nothing, a passing infatuation that will burn out and it’s likely that on his triumphant return Kylo will refuse to welcome him back out of embarrassment. He tells Finalizer that he can’t possibly be with Kylo because Kylo is royalty and he’s only a military man. Finalizer has no opinion on the matter and soon Armitage keeps his thoughts to himself.

He’s almost a full day away preparing his bivouac when he first becomes aware that he is not alone. The dragon’s lair is still some uncertain distance ahead and he does not wish to stumble upon it in the dark, so Armitage unsaddles Finalizer and leads her to a stream. He watches her drink and shake her head then get set into the lush grass. He drinks from the same stream and eats cold provisions—no point in attracting attention with a fire—then wraps himself in his blanket. It’s quiet. The daytime creatures are silent after a brief flurry of singing and scurrying, and the nocturnal creatures are emerging. They are stealthy by nature and Armitage hears soft chirrups of insects and low hoots of predatory birds along with the rustle of small mammals and reptiles in the undergrowth. He’s sure there are no prowling predators here: there have been no requests for his garrison to help farmers with a wood lion or plains bear hunt after finding livestock slaughtered in the fields, and in any case the dragons would not tolerate such an incursion into their territory quietly. Armitage hunkers down for the night confident that any large predators would have been chased off. Besides, Finalizer has prey animal senses and her disquiet would warn if anything frightening approached, and she is calm. Armitage smiles at the shape of his mare, eating again by the stream. There’s grazing and water and trees to scratch on. He wonders if this is a good place to leave her.

So there’s no reason for Armitage to feel like he’s being followed and watched, stalked like prey. Dragons are not stealthy—they have no need—so he does not respond with fear. It must be something else making him feel uneasy. He pretends to sleep but keeps his ears keen and eventually he hears it, a soft snort and a whinny. Finalizer responds and Armitage curses. He sits up and calls out. “Kylo?”

After a few minutes, Kylo appears with a smile and a ration pack.  
“Followed you,” he says, unnecessarily. “Phasma set off with the troopers at noon. I waited until they were out of sight, saddled Supremacy and circled wide.”  
“You’re a fool,” Armitage says. “You are endangering us both. Go home.”  
“No.” Kylo settles down beside Armitage.  
“I mean it, your highness.” Armitage shifts and offers Kylo a share of his blanket, arm holding it out like a wing, and Kylo slides across to lean against Armitage’s side. Kylo’s arm slips behind Armitage’s back under the blanket and Armitage has to concentrate carefully on what he says. “As soon as it’s light enough, you’re going to take the horses back to the castle.”  
“Make me,” replies Kylo with a grin, then he falls quiet. “Look, I understand that you want me to stay tucked away safely but I can’t. Not when I know you’re out here alone. I promise I won’t get in your way and I will be silent.”  
“Kylo...” Armitage is at a loss for words. How to balance his delight with his fear? How to explain that it’s not lack of faith in Kylo’s skill as a fighter that makes Armitage want to send him away, but growing terror that the dragon might be too powerful and kill them both? Kylo has detected the dip in his resolve and he laughs, throwing his other arm around Armitage’s waist and pulling him to lie on the ground beside him.  
“I am coming with you,” he says, settling against Armitage’s back, warm breath tickling his ear. “Goodnight, my captain.”  
Armitage thinks he will never sleep with Kylo curled against him, yet when he wakes it is already getting light and Kylo’s presence is warm and comforting. When Kylo opens his eyes and smiles, Armitage kisses him softly and wishes he could wake his prince like this every morning.

Kylo again refuses to take the horses back so they leave Supremacy and Finalizer for the troopers to find, and walk. Kylo keeps his word and is silent, following Armitage as a tracker would. Armitage is only aware of Kylo through careful concentration on his presence, a skill Kylo taught him by accident in their first few months when physical drills were low on the list of Kylo’s favourite activities and he used to hide. Kylo senses that Armitage is thinking about their old games of hide and seek, and he radiates amusement. He has always been able to feel where Armitage is, ever since the stern young captain first arrived to escort Kylo from the palace to the castle where the prince was to live and train with the garrison. There’s something steady about him. Kylo feels his presence like embers amongst all the other sparking life in the wilderness.

As the day passes and they cautiously approach the location Unamo marked on Armitage’s map, Kylo feels a different presence. Not a warm glow like Armitage, but dark and brooding and cold. He’s felt something like it before, maybe ten years ago, a heavy, writhing mass that grew roots into his mind and twisted the thoughts in his head. He’s afraid, afraid that it’s all happening again and he’ll be taken away from Armitage and sent into solitude with Luke. He’s no monk and he has little faith in anything other than his own abilities. He makes bivouac separate from Armitage as planned to make them harder to detect and the voice in his head murmurs to him that it’s an excuse and Armitage secretly hates him. He knows it’s not true but he weeps anyway and the slow, dripping voice revisits all the things Armitage has said and done, or not said and not done, in a different light. It’s all twisted and wrong, but compelling just the same. Kylo doesn’t dare sleep through the torture and he’s exhausted by first light.

Armitage sleeps badly for a different reason. He’s planning to wake early and leave Kylo behind. Kylo will follow—he’s a decent tracker—but Armitage wants Kylo to be out of range when Phasma begins her attack and he takes the Skywalker sword into the dragon’s lair. But Kylo is there, sitting a few yards away when Armitage opens his eyes to the pre-dawn grey.  
“What are you doing?” Armitage asks voice barely a whisper.  
“We’re close,” replies Kylo. “It knows me. I should not have come.”  
Armitage gets up and stretches. “Go back the way we came. Find the horses and return to the castle.”  
“No.” Kylo attempts a smile. It comes out as a grimace. “If you love me at all, don’t send me away.”

All morning, Armitage is aware that Kylo is suffering and they link hands when they can. By the time the sun is halfway up they have found the den where Unamo hid and they slip inside the cool earth hollow and wait. Kylo closes his eyes and fights the demon in his head. Armitage runs simulations in his mind in preparation for what he has to do. As the sun passes its highest point, there’s a commotion from the lair and about a dozen juveniles fly up and circle before heading south.  
“It’s time,” says Armitage, “stay safe.” He kisses Kylo’s forehead, grabs the sword and leaves their refuge. Kylo refuses to watch in case the dragon sees through his eyes. When he is sure Armitage is away, Kylo breaks cover and runs north, away from the deadly flock and away from Armitage.

 _Come and get me, you old bastard! I remember you._  
_Chase me down! It’s me you want, isn’t it? All those attacks and your pathetic children never brought me to you!_  
_Is it Skywalker blood you crave? Come and get it!_  
_A-ah here you are. I feel you wake up. I’m waiting for you._

_**You are mine, Kylo Ren.** _

Kylo feels the voice in his head grow louder until it fills his consciousness. He’s rooted to the spot and it is coming for him.

Armitage creeps towards the lair in case there are a few juveniles left to guard the lair. It’s in a deep, bowl-shaped crater in the earth surrounded by gorse and briar too thick to penetrate. He considers hacking a path through with the Skywalker sword but the ridiculous image makes him giggle. It’s a weapon of uncertain power and not to be used for mundane tasks. He searches until he finds a crawlspace that Unamo must have made. Like Unamo, he peers into the nest. Like Unamo, he sees the breeding adult surrounded by gnawed carcasses and leathery brown eggs. Like Unamo he shies away from the scraps of fabric and leather body armour with their own insignia on it. Unlike Unamo, he looks for a discreet way down.

There is none. Armitage could weep in frustration at his choice: enter the lair and meet death in those horrible jaws before he even draws the weapon, or make a noise to get the dragon to come out and be blasted with fire as soon as he’s seen. Just as he thinks he will have to slink away, having sacrificed twenty troopers and possibly Phasma to the juveniles for no benefit, the dragon growls and shifts. Its disfigured head moves from side to side and its blue eyes open as slits. Slowly, on hind legs unused to carrying its bulk around and without the aid of wings on its spindly front legs, it pushes up from the foul bed of detritus on which it nests and lumbers forward. Armitage takes advantage of the distraction and slides down into the lair in an avalanche of slippery dust and bones.

When he reaches the bottom of the fetid pit, he draws the Skywalker sword and strikes.


	4. Alarm Bells

Kylo’s feet are frozen to the ground. He feels ice creep up his legs and harden in his core as the dragon eases its bulk up over the lip of the nest and hauls itself toward him inch by inch. He can see it clearly and it’s worse than everything he imagined after hearing Unamo’s description. Its mottled gold scales are caked with filth. Its head is uneven—too wide at the top with a deep scar as if the skull has been split and parted—and there’s a gaping, oozing hole in the side of its face. Its eyes are ice-cold and staring. He thinks he doesn’t have long before he’s engulfed in flame and he’s terrified, but he has distracted it and given Armitage more time to strike. In his fear, his memory retreats to the only lesson he learned during his months of sanctuary with Luke’s order. He closes his eyes and chants. His head floods with the familiar words of the twice-daily affirmation of the life force that fills the spaces between the particles of every living thing.

Except the dragon. That force-sucking presence he attempts to block. He feels its hunger, how desperately it grasps at his own share of the force, to pull Kylo’s essence into itself, devour it and prolong its loathsome existence. All the time it whispers lies into his head.

 **You’re strong in the force and you’re mine, Kylo Ren.**  
_I came to see you die!_  
**Foolish child! Show me the weapon you think can end me.**  
_I don’t have one._  
**Idiot. Fool. No wonder your parents sent you away. They hate you, and your uncle—the man who preaches love for all life—can’t love you. Your soldier-boy babysitter sees you for the burden you are: weak and soft and useless and**  
_No! He loves me._  
**He lies! You will hear him scream curses at you when my breath sears the meat from his bones. Come to me.**

Kylo feels like he has no fight left in him. The dragon tells him he’s already failed as it heaves itself closer and closer. He’s teetering on the point of giving up when there’s a sharp, rage-filled screech and the dragon is distracted from him. Suddenly, his limbs are tingling and free to move. He staggers back and falls, head spinning and ears ringing as if all the alarm bells in the castle are sounding inside his skull.

Behind the dragon, Armitage wields the Skywalker sword with little finesse. The unexpected distraction that made the dragon leave the lair gives him an opportunity. He hacks through the soft but tough covering of as many eggs as he can see and kills the embryos before the dragon senses their deaths, lumbers around and faces him. Slowly, the beast raises its head and rears up onto its hind legs, raining down filth from its underbelly scales. The stench of ammonia almost makes Armitage gag, but he holds his breath and lurches forward, staggering up the rim of the lair. He knows he’ll only have seconds. The dragon’s weak spot will only be on show for the time it takes for the fire sacs in its throat to fill, pumped from the muscular gland in its chest with fuel that ignites spontaneously in air. He springs forward and thrusts the blade out and up.

He worries: if I fail, will Kylo see me die?

The blade skitters and slides. There’s nowhere for it to gain purchase on the smooth, tough scales that protect the dragon’s hide, and the dragon comes crashing down onto all fours again. Armitage dives and rolls to the side, feeling the searing heat as the dragon unleashes a jet of flame over the place where he had just been standing. Armitage runs and screams incoherent abuse at the dragon, barely thinking, focused only on getting it to reveal again that one place low on the abdomen where the scales are smaller and part to allow the thick, leathery eggs to emerge. He has to make the dragon rear up for the chance to strike at it again.

The dragon’s body blocks the sun and throws Armitage into shadow as it rises up again. Armitage darts closer but lands heavily, face down on the scorched ground. In confusion he can’t get up, can’t process that he tripped and fell and needs to move _now_. The Skywalker sword is just out of reach, thrown away by the same reflex that made him try to break his fall. The dragon sees him and Armitage feels sure that he is going to die. The beast lands heavily, its neck stretches forward and fire sweeps in from his right. He closes his eyes and screams.

The flames burn the foliage to his side and the skin of his arm prickles as if frozen. In his terror he has rolled aside, twisting his ankle to get free of the root where his foot was caught, and the dragon’s breath has only ghosted over his arm, burning away the leather of his sleeve and reddening his skin. Shadow falls across him again as the dragon prepares for its final attack. Armitage can’t move fast enough because of the pain radiating up his leg from his wrenched ankle. There’s nothing he can do but hope that Kylo has had the sense to flee. He takes one last look toward his death and calls out _No!_ in despair when he sees Kylo standing between himself and the creature. Kylo has one hand outstretched towards the dragon’s head and his other hand is beckoning to the sword.

For just a fraction of a second, pale cyan light whirls and flickers and is gone. The ground shakes as the dragon hits the earth. It shakes its foul head from side to side and coughs out vapour that pops and crackles orange, and smoke puffs through the tear in its cheek. Instead of a controlled and deadly accurate jet of flame, there is a low rumble and a shriek cut short when the dragon’s head is engulfed by a fireball. It collapses forwards and rolls, exposing the side of its filthy belly to Armitage. There’s another flicker of cyan and the fetid skin splits open, scales parting as the hide is pierced and slashed from inside. The last thing Armitage sees before his world goes dark is Prince Kylo, soaked and dripping with gore, rolling clear of the corpse and throwing up copiously on the ground.

When he comes round Armitage can’t move properly, there’s a throbbing ache in his ankle that sends stabbing pains up his leg if he so much as thinks about flexing his joints, and his arm feels tight. He can’t remember where he is. Someone laughs.  
“Oh it lives. Told you he was only pretending.”  
“Phasma.” His voice croaks as he tries to speak and another welcome presence crouches beside him. He opens his eyes for this one and tries to sit up and smile but the sight and smell of Kylo makes him recoil.  
“Lie still.”  
“Kylo! Ugh. Kylo. You—”  
“Phasma says your ankle has a bad break and you’re burned. The troopers are making something to help carry you back.”  
“You’re covered in blood!”  
“Oh, it’s not mine,” says Kylo in a tone that suggests everything’s fine. “The dragon is dead.”  
Armitage’s consciousness feeds him little chunks of memory and he grabs Kylo’s arm with his uninjured hand. “You...” he says then shakes his head. “Was I seeing things? You burst out of a karking dragon!”  
“Like I said,” replies Kylo with a laugh. “This blood isn’t mine.”


	5. Medical Scare

Armitage consents to be strapped to a makeshift litter and carried by two troopers, one fore and one aft, because he has no choice. He studies the splint holding his purpling, swollen foot in position. It’s rough, a piece of sturdy branch that has an offshoot at the correct angle for his heel, and Phasma explains that his legs are tied together so that the good one can support the injured one and not, as Kylo claims she’d said, to stop him from _trying to hop home like a karking idiot._

Phasma reports that she and the troopers attracted the juveniles away from the lair and fought them until the last one flew off to the west, then came to see what remained of Armitage.  
“You were out cold,” Phasma says as she watches her troopers hoist Armitage’s litter. “I realigned your bones while you were unconscious. No sense waking you up for that just to have you puke and pass out again from the pain. We carried you here, away from the remains. We’ll send a team out to bury it.” Phasma draws a line across her own stomach with her finger. “You know it was almost severed in half?”  
Armitage nods. He wants to talk to Kylo before he talks to Phasma about the battle to make sure he wasn’t already unconscious or hallucinating when, in a sequence of impossible moves, Kylo summoned his sword as if it was iron and he a magnet, vanished under the dragon’s belly then cut his way out from inside. He thinks about it when Kylo is walking beside him, but he can’t find the words.

Kylo wears his scaly coat of dried dragon blood with pride. He amuses Armitage with a tale of how, when the troopers and Phasma reached them, he’d stood up still dripping with stinking gobbets of dragon offal and they had screamed and run. The troopers take it with good grace, helping to embellish Kylo’s tale and make it all the taller for telling around the barracks when they get home, along with stories about the bravery of the troopers who are not returning. At the first stream they reach, Phasma makes Kylo strip off and wash, ordering him to submerge his hair in the current and scrub his skin with handfuls of river sand to slough off the red-brown flakes while she burns his rancid clothes. He was not quite correct in his assertion to Armitage that none of the blood was his own: cleaning reveals a long, oozing slash on his face and chest, and a puncture wound on his shoulder. He says they are probably nicks from his own sword and the troopers laugh, adding the detail to their account of their adventures while Phasma tends his wounds—she says that he will scar—and Armitage cuts arm holes in a blanket to fashion a rough coat for him to wear.

Phasma leads the exhausted procession toward home. Their progress is slow. Barefoot and wearing a woollen blanket with slits for armholes and rope for a belt, if it were not for the sword hanging from his waist Kylo would look like a wild-haired hermit. The troopers who take turns with Armitage are weary from the battle, growing short on rations, and have to rest often. Kylo walks beside Armitage when he can, head nodding and eyes sometimes slipping closed before he stumbles awake again. Armitage takes his hand and tells him to walk ahead with Phasma until their next rest. Kylo pouts a little until Armitage promises it is only because the prince should be setting an example and leading.

Daylight is fading from the sky when they make camp for the second night. Kylo has been silent, trudging and stumbling behind Phasma and in front of Armitage. Armitage has been drifting into sleep then waking with a start when his dreams show him horrors or the troopers are rough and his ankle is jostled. The troopers build a fire for comfort and sit around it telling each other what they are most looking forward to doing when they get home. Mostly their plans involve hot food and soft bunks. In this rare moment of relaxed discipline, one of them nods at where Kylo sits then calls to Armitage, “What are you most looking forward to doing, captain?” and he retorts to their laughter that he desires polite conversation with intelligent company. When Kylo is asked the same question, he can’t stop himself from glancing at Armitage and smiling while the troopers laugh and whistle.

Armitage asks Kylo to free his uninjured leg and help him stand. Kylo kneels to pick at the knots that have kept Armitage hobbled on Phasma’s orders and hauls him upright. He gestures towards the cover of trees and Kylo laughs.  
“So this is my royal duty?” he says. “I’ve gone from valiant dragon slayer to nursemaid of a soldier who needs to piss.”  
Armitage puts on an air of long-suffering humility and blinks coyly at Kylo. “Oh, _pleeease_ don’t trouble yourself, your highness, I can crawl on my belly from here.”  
Kylo ducks his head under Armitage’s good arm and straightens up, slips an arm around his back for more support and helps him hop, cursing softly, over to the trees for privacy. He steps back and looks away until Armitage calls his name then puts both arms around Armitage’s waist. Armitage hangs on around Kylo’s neck. Kylo smiles and leans in for a kiss, intending to make the most of this moment unobserved with Armitage.

Their kiss is soft, hesitant and over quickly. Armitage looks into Kylo’s eyes then lets his gaze follow the angry red line of his wound. He rests his forehead on Kylo’s shoulder.  
“You saved my life,” says Armitage.  
“I know,” says Kylo. “Does that mean you’re mine now?”  
“I already was,” says Armitage quietly. Kylo laughs and sways a little. Armitage brings his head up and frowns. “How did you do it, Kylo? I thought I was going to die, and then you were there in front of the dragon too so we were both as good as dead. But you... What did you do?”  
“I needed the dragon’s fire to be directed away from you and it was. I needed my sword to be in my hand and there it was. I needed a way of reaching its skin through the scales. I stabbed at its belly and when it fell, it fell on me and I was...“  
“Inside it?”  
Kylo shudders and looks away. “It was dark and hot and I thought I would choke or drown. In my panic I thrust my sword wherever it would go and I was free. Can we talk about something else now?”  
Armitage raises his head and nods. Kylo shuffles closer, careful of Armitage’s injuries, holds him and kisses him again. He’s still gentle as if Armitage is fragile. Armitage parts his lips and Kylo closes his eyes in the hope of enjoying this stolen moment more, but the sensation of Armitage’s lips and tongue on his own vanishes. A cold, pale blue eye set in shimmering gold stares at him and a voice in his head laughs.

**Stupid boy. Did you think it would be that easy?**


	6. In the nick of time

Phasma runs into the shadow between the trees when she hears a yell and then her name called over and over. Armitage and Kylo are both on the ground with Armitage sprawled half over Kylo. Kylo is on his back staring up into the dark canopy, rigid and with his jaw clenched tight. Phasma shouts orders and troopers scramble to obey. Soon, Armitage and Kylo are beside the small fire. Armitage strokes Kylo’s face and murmurs his name along with soft nonsense that everyone ignores. Phasma checks them both over with practised efficiency. Armitage’s splint is doing its job, Kylo is breathing and his pulse is raised but strong. Phasma says they can’t do any more until they are back in the castle but the troopers need to rest and to travel at night would incur large risk for little gain.

Armitage sits vigil. He can’t sleep for long anyway and he keeps one hand on Kylo at all times. When he’s alert, he strokes Kylo’s cheek. When he gets sleepy, he rests his hand on Kylo’s chest, feeling slight changes in his breathing rhythm and fearing in case it stops. There’s no change by dawn and Phasma decides they will not stop until they are home. Kylo is the one to be carried this time. Armitage is presented with a pair of sturdy branches to use as crutches and the fastest trooper is sent ahead to bring help out to them. The sorry procession is met a handful of miles out from the castle by a fresh company of troopers with horses and a proper cart for the injured. A couple of the tired troopers raise a cheer.

The mood inside the castle walls is one of muted jubilation. The dragon and its spawn are dead so there will be no more attacks, but the commanding officer and the prince are injured. Armitage scoffs at the suggestion he retreat to bed, orders the infirmary staff to provide him with a proper splint and crutches, and gets back to the business of running the garrison. Kylo occupies a bed and is watched over constantly. Nothing the trained medics do has the slightest effect and Armitage grows irritable and despondent. Days pass and nothing changes. Kylo can sit up, his heartbeat and breathing remain strong and when porridge or water is put in his mouth he swallows. Armitage spends every spare minute with Kylo and has a bunk moved close so that he can watch over the prince at night. He takes over basic nursing duties: feeding, turning and bathing Kylo to the disapproving looks of the trained medics, but nobody can match his dedication to his patient. He talks to Kylo too, telling him the details of garrison gossip and of the way the troopers’ tales have made him into the hero every youngling aspires to be.

On a morning some days after Armitage has lost count of the calendar, a nurse shuffles into the ward and clears his throat. “Um, Captain? Sir?”  
“What is it?” Armitage asks, annoyed. He’s in the middle of explaining different methods of forging weapons grade alloys to Kylo and it’s complicated.  
“Um. Visitor. For his highness.”  
The nurse scurries out and Armitage turns his head. There, wearing long robes, stands a man with salt-and-pepper hair, a grey beard, a soft smile and a pair of lively blue eyes. The man nods at Armitage and walks over to reach his hand out to Kylo. Armitage is on his feet in an instant, bodily blocking the man and demanding to know who he is. The man raises his hands and steps back. “My name is Luke Skywalker,” he says, “and I’ve come to see my nephew since he couldn’t attend his own coming of age ceremony.”  
Armitage sags and sighs. “You’re _Uncle Luke,”_ he says. “Kylo... I mean _his highness_ spoke of you.”  
“Oh?” Luke laughs. “I hope it wasn’t all bad. I need to see him.”

There’s something about Skywalker that makes Armitage want to trust him so he lets Luke approach Kylo’s bed and examine him, but he hovers near. Luke closes his eyes and rests a hand on Kylo’s forehead. After a few minutes he says, “He’s stuck in there. You notice anything that makes him respond?”  
“Not really,” replies Armitage. “He eats and drinks when he’s given food and water but it seems automatic. I thought he was waking up a couple of nights ago when there was a screech from somewhere over the wastelands out west, but he settled when it passed. Sometimes I think he’s responding to my voice so I read to him. He’s been like this since two days after he killed the dragon.”  
“Ah.” Luke takes Armitage’s chair and sits back. He takes Kylo’s hand but fixes his gaze on Armitage. “I need you to tell me everything you can about that.”  
A second chair is brought and they sit either side of Kylo, taking one hand each, and talk across his catatonic form. Luke listens and asks for details Armitage can’t always supply. When he’s done talking, Armitage asks what can be done for Kylo. Luke shrugs and says he needs to meditate with Kylo, promises to see to his care personally and asks Armitage to leave them. Armitage gets up, leans over Kylo and kisses him, mumbling a promise to return soon, and goes out blinking into sunlight.

The attack comes next day at dawn. There’s no warning because the turrets have stood empty of lookouts since the dragon was slain, and the unlucky watchman who sees it is the first victim, knocked from the walkway and burned on the sandy floor of the training arena. Phasma rallies troopers from their bunkrooms and they run out, shields high and swords low, disbelief and anger evident amongst the fear that the dragon won’t stay dead. Phasma screams at them that it is not immortal, not the same one as she saw slain. Armitage directs the defence with skill born of experience, but although the greenish colouring with only a hint of gold here and there suggests this dragon is not quite adult, it is large and it can still fly. Fighting off juveniles is no preparation for defending the castle against a creature that can strike fast and then circle out of reach to choose its next victim at leisure.

There’s no strategy that Armitage can see ending in success so he orders the troopers to retreat to the safety of the low, thick-walled buildings within the inner wall. He waits in the centre of the arena, watching the sky, until Phasma is through the archway that leads to safety then turns to follow. A screech behind him makes him look back and there it is, perched on the outer wall, rearing up, preparing to strike. It’s too far away for Armitage to reach it and attack before it unleashes fire, and he’s too far from safety. Armitage stands paralysed by the hopelessness of his situation, and the dragon lowers its head gracefully, orange flickering a warning of the searing jet of flame that’s about to kill him.

From his peripheral vision, a dark shape leaps into the centre of his view. Armitage yells at it, “MOVE!” but at the same instant the dragon blasts out burning fuel, the figure holds up a hand and the orange flame separates into two fiery jets that scorch the sand and melt it into glass. The dragon shakes its head and rears up again but the figure moves like lightning, leaping up and hurling a sword that arcs and spins through the air, igniting with its own cyan fire. The sword pierces the dragon’s abdomen and it falls backward off the wall to land with a sickening crack on the stones below. The figure follows it down as if the precipitous drop was nothing. Barely registering the pain in his half-healed ankle, Armitage skips and climbs, hauling himself awkwardly on hands and knees up the narrow stone staircase set into the wall, and looks over. The figure stands over the dead dragon with the Skywalker sword glowing in his hand. He looks up and smiles, and Armitage almost falls from the wall in shock. Kylo gazes up at Armitage with eyes that seem alight with the same blue fire as his sword.

*****

“Do you have to go today?” Armitage leans on the wall while Kylo packs his things with a scowl on his face.  
“He does,” Luke says, interrupting as he walks into Kylo’s rooms. “He has been putting off his duties for long enough.”  
“Ugh, Luke, I know,” says Kylo, glaring at his uncle for a few seconds. “Skywalker heritage blah blah blah dragon in your bloodline blah blah blah directing the force blah blah—“  
Armitage is laughing. He can’t help it: Prince Kylo has slain two dragons using powers that Armitage can only guess at and is whining at his uncle like a cadet told to mop the barracks.  
“What’s so funny?” demands Kylo, turning his deep brown eyes on Armitage. “You’re happy that I’m leaving?”  
“Of course not,” replies Armitage as Luke slips from the room. Armitage walks over to Kylo and wraps his arms around his waist from behind. “I will miss you terribly but I am happy that you’re able to leave. How many times have you almost died saving me from dragons?”  
Kylo smiles and turns. He cups Armitage’s face and kisses him twice. “Makes you doubly mine now,” he says. Armitage sighs.  
“Kylo—“  
“Shut up!”  
Armitage takes a step back. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”  
“Yes I do,” replies Kylo. “I heard you and Luke discussing me last night. You’re going to tell me we can’t be together because you have to stay here and play at soldiers while I have to go play at being the heir to the throne. That’s bullshit, Armitage.”  
“It’s not,” says Armitage sharply. “It’s my life. It’s your life.”  
“If you’re tired of me just say it!” Kylo throws down the folded clothing in his hands and upends his half-packed trunk then rounds on Armitage. “I walked through fire for you. If you’re not making any effort to be with me because you don’t love—”  
“Don’t be like this!” Armitage is frowning now too. “Let’s not end on an argument. Of course I love you, but we have to face reality. You’re going to be His Majesty, Protector of the Realm. I’m just some captain of a training garrison, sworn to carry out your orders.”

Kylo’s eyes flicker cyan and he smiles. Armitage rolls his eyes. “Oh what now?”  
“Captain Armitage Hux, I command you—“  
“Don’t do it Kylo!”  
“—to serve as my loyal, personal bodyguard—“  
“Kylo! I’m warning you!”  
“—your duties include accompanying me to fancy banquets—“  
“No!”  
“—and sleeping in my room every night.” Kylo strokes Armitage’s face. “You can refuse, of course. But you must be due a promotion by now.”  
“Actually it’s not a bad idea,” says Luke, walking back in and tutting at the mess on the floor. “He can start by guarding you from further distraction while you finish your packing. I’ll see you both at the outer gate in... an hour? That’s long enough, isn’t it?”  
Kylo frowns. “Long enough for what?”  
Luke shrugs and winks at Armitage. “That all depends on how long it takes you to cram your things into that trunk.”

Almost an hour later, Armitage lies back drowsy in Kylo’s arms. Kylo strokes the broad, puckered scar tissue that runs the length of Armitage’s arm. It’s still sore looking, pink against the pale cream of Armitage’s skin, although Armitage reassures him that there’s no feeling in it.  
“You’re really staying here?” Kylo asks, sadness sighing in his voice. “I heard you, you know that? When everything else was dark and frightening, you were there. You talked about Unamo yelling at Phasma to marry her in the middle of an argument, and you told me how to make swords.”  
“Phasma can take over here.” It’s a decision he’s only just realised he’s made and it makes him feel as if he could float to the rafters. He feels Kylo freeze and he smiles, turns and traces Kylo’s scar. “I want you to know,” he says between kisses, “that I’d walk through fire for you too. Perhaps in time I’ll get to tell you you’re mine.”

Kylo shrugs. “I already am.”


End file.
